Welcome to My Romance
by Honour Huston
Summary: New chapter.Yuki has a proposition for Shuichi: pretend to be his bf until his next book comes out. But, Shuichi breaks the golden rule of his profession. Can Shuichi stay in a onesided love? What would happen if someone discovers his real profession?
1. Every Story Needs a Beginning

**OMG!! Here is the second FF from me, Honour Huston. My pen name comes from the wonderful book BEAUTY by Robin McKinley. She is divine! Getting back to the main point, dear readers, I have discovered the amazing Maki Murakami and her Gravitation series. I have been in a Shonen Ai/ Yaoi mode for quite a while and the idea I have is a bit cliché, but I think it's cute. Take the characters from Gravitation and toss them into the story of Pretty Woman. Am I twisted or what?! I will make it work, yakusoku! (promise) ;-)**

**Ok….there will be footnote translations at the end of the chappy. I hope you all like this! Let me know! Onegai?! Oo'**

**Insert disclaimer**: Me no own anything: Pretty Woman belongs to Gary Marshall and Gravitation belongs to Murakami-sama.

**Pretty Shuichi—Chapter 1: Every Story Needs a Beginning**

On that particular Saturday morning, no one noticed the pink haired boy walking stiffly through the middle of the Ginza district of Tokyo. If they had, they would have seen that his hair was a strange shade of pink, something that is not common in the real world. (Muse: this isn't the real world, BAKA!! HH: Gomen!) People would probably also mistake the boy for an adolescent female: he was short, slender, with a very feminine build. The genki bishie in question was in fact Shuichi Shindou, lead singer of the up and coming band _Bad Luck_. Everyone who knew the boy knew that he was adorable, bordering on annoying, and not the brightest light in the chandelier, but he had a beautiful heart and an equally beautiful soul. He was always happy and laughing, hanging out with Hiro playing music and writing lyrics for their band.

At the moment, though, Shuichi was neither happy nor laughing. You see, things were going badly for the singer. He had moved out of his parents' house at the end of high school and shared an apartment with Hiro; he and Hiro had been completely strapped for cash, so broke that they had resorted to using the window as a door so that they could avoid their landlady. Another bad piece of luck for _Bad Luck_ was that not one of the record labels in Tokyo would even listen to _Bad Luck_'s demo tape; Shuichi's biggest dream was to be a great singer like his idol Ryuichi Sakuma. All of that had been on the pink-haired bishie's mind when he entered that particular bar the night before.

He had been sitting at the bar nursing a beer for more than an hour when a man approached him. Shuichi didn't look up as the middle-aged, black haired businessman sat down next to him. Shu didn't pay any attention to the man; he just continued to lean against the bar and stare into space, absently chewing on a piece of strawberry Pockey and taking random sips of the beer. The man leaned in and in a low voice said, "That can't taste very good." Shu straightened up and blinked at the man, surprised to find him in the seat next to him that had been vacant only minutes before. "Ano...did you say something?" the singer asked innocently. The man smiled a little and shook his head. "I simply commented that Pocky and beer don't really go together." The man lazily drew out a cigarette and lit it. He drew a long drag and let it out slowly, the grey smoke wafting above his head and dissipating into the smoky air above the bar. "The name's Ichiro Yamane, and you are?"

"Shuichi Shindou."

"To be honest, at first I thought you were a girl, and I came over here to hit on you. I wondered how a young girl got into a bar in the first place." Yamane smiled again. Shu laughed a little uneasily, disappointed that _again_ he had been mistaken for a girl. "I'm eighteen, I'll be nineteen in a few weeks." That was all the singer was able to say without totally falling apart, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. "So what's a bishie like you doing in a place like this?"(AN: Worst pickup line ever!!) Yamane asked. Shuichi offered a shortened version of his life, ending with the part about having no money. Yamane's eyebrow's lifted a little at the mention of not having any money. "Demo...I thought that a pro like you would be rolling in the Yen. The bishie market is becoming very popular." Shuichi looked up at Yamane, not comprehending what the man was referring to.

The minutes ticked by and the businessman was beginning to worry that the bishie was retarded or something. Shuichi looked at the man perplexed, and then he took a look around at the other patrons at that particular bar. There were pretty women in tight clothing hanging all over the young and old businessmen at the tables and at the bar. There were too many women to be wives or dates, well dates in the normal sense, anyway. A light finally came on in the singer's brain as his violet eyes widened as the implication set in. (Finally) At the sign that the bishie finally understood, Yamane smiled again, but this time there was no mistaking the lusty twinkle in his dark eyes. The blush on the singer's face increased to a complete and total red flush that reached his hairline. Yamane-san had one hand on his cheek, leaning against the bar, his cigarette in the other, burnt almost to the butt.

Shuichi jumped up from his seat, overturning his drink and box of Pockey, the pink sticks floating in the golden puddle of beer on the counter. "NANI!?! YOU THINK I'M A BAISHUNFU[1]?!? Are you fucking nuts? I'm only an eighteen-year old up-and-coming singer! You are so etchi!!"

Cigarette forgotten, Yamane grabbed Shiuchi's arm and shoved him roughly back into his seat. "Shizuka ni[2]!" the man hissed as some of the patron's looked their way inquiringly. Shuichi immediately shut up and glared at the man. "Chikushô[3]! Yamane cursed as he ran his fingers through his hair, "I thought you were propositioning me! How the hell was I supposed to know? You look like the kind of kid who's into that kind of thing." Yamane grumbled as he fished through his jacket pocket coming out with a wad of Yen. He tossed it in front of the singer and lit another cigarette.

Shuichi stared at the wad of bills, guessing that there was several thousand Yen sitting in front of him. He knew what the man wanted, he knew that it was wrong, he needed to talk to Hiro, he needed...his stomach growled in protest, he had been living off Pockey and Ramune soda for about a week and he was hungry for a real meal. _Maybe just this once_, the bishie thought, _we need the money really bad and I can't think of another way to get fast cash._ Emboldened, Shuichi got up, stared straight at Yamane and bowed formally. "What do I have to do?"

AHH! I finished the first chapter! Poor Shu-chan! I turned Shuichi into a hooker! ::ducks rotten fruit that's being flung at my warped head:: What will happen when Shu and Yamane are alone? OO I'm getting shivers just thinking about it. ::Shakes herself out of it::

Ne...here are the translations

1. BAISHUNFU: prostitute (kinda obvious from context)

2. Shizuka ni: shut up!

3. Chikushô: damn

Minna, ja ne! see ya! Oh yeah REVIEW ONGEAISHIMASU!!

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	2. Setting Up For Things to Come

**Ne minna! I'm sorry that this chapter is kinda late. I was gonna post it Tuesday, but I lost my document somewhere in my system. ::cries:: I've been searching for it since then, and I even had the head of the computer dept. at my mom's work look for it and she couldn't find it. It was kinda my fault tho…anyway, I hope that I can remember all that I wrote because I thought that the chapter that I had rocked! Till it went bye-byes on me that is. ::sigh:: BTW, I used my teacher's last name, Yamane, for Shu-chan's first customer. Yamane-sensei was my teacher in Japan, Gomen Sensei! I couldn't think of a name and that was the first one that came to mind. I mean nothing by it. **

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**Misa-chan: Thanks for the heads up! I had no idea that there was another fic like this one. It is truly an odd coincidence! I'm open to suggestions for a new title, I was thinking of changing it anyways. **

**PockyPoo-san: I didn't think that an AN in the first paragraph was a mortal sin. I thought it was kinda cute.**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Isn't that a shame? ;

**Pretty Shuichi—Chapter 2: Setting Up For Things to Come**

(I hope that I can remember what I wrote the first time!!!)

_I can't believe that I'm doing this_. Shuichi thought to himself as he followed Yamane to an all night Love Hotel near the bar. _I wish that Hiro was here, I really need his advice._ The pink-haired singer imagined his red-haired band mate and imagined what Hiro would say: **No amount of money is worth your self-respect and dignity. **That is exactly what Hiro would have said. While the singer had been lost in his own thoughts, Yamane had booked a room and was saying something to the manager and in turn, the manager agreed.

"Shindou-san, come with me please." Yamane said in a pleasant tone.

At the thought that the climax of this weird evening was soon at hand, Shuichi began to have serious doubts and wanted to bolt right out of there and forget about their sordid deal. But Shuichi didn't have the courage to do that. Instead, he sniffed a little, and proceeded to follow Yamane down the hall. They arrived at a room not too far down the hall and Shuichi noticed that Yamane was comfortable in that kind of situation, suggesting that he had done this before. That just made the frightened bishie tremble even more. The businessman sat down on the small bed and motioned for Shuichi to do the same. Shaken, he complied.

They sat there for several minutes, Yamane smoking a cigarette, and Shuichi hyperventilating next to him. Yamane slowly put an arm around Shuichi's slender shoulders and Shuichi's reacted by jumping so high that he almost fell off the small bed. Yamane leaned against the boy, an amused smirk on his face. "Mou, you're jumpy." He teased. Shuichi sniffed back tears and mumbled, "Well you're heavy." That got a true laugh out of the older man. After his laughter dissipated, he left out a content sigh and idly stroked Shuichi's soft hair and back. After a few minutes, Shuichi began to relax; he felt a little drowsy, kind of like a cat that was being petted. Yamane leaned in as of to kiss the boy, but instead, the man whispered huskily, "Ne, bishie-chan, I'll give you some free advice: never kiss a dan'nasan[1] on the mouth."

In usual fashion, curiosity got the better of the singer and he asked a little awe struck, "Why?" he breathed.

The older man shrugged nonchalantly, "It's just not done. Kissing on the mouth is supposed to be saved for someone you love. Oh, that's another thing. Never, ever get involved in a relationship with a dan'nasan. It is the cardinal rule in the baishunfu handbook."

"There's a handbook?" the boy squeaked. Yamane glanced at the boy and did a double take. Shuichi's eyes were unfocused and as round as saucers as he listened to the seemingly sage advice from the older man. The boy's mouth was shaped like a tiny 'o'and there was a little bit of spittle dripping from the corner of his pretty pink mouth. There were tiny stars and funny shapes swirling around his head as he sat there gazing admiringly at the man. Yamane gave the singer a funny look and shook his head. Shuichi blinked and suddenly laughed as he put one hand behind his head, "So uh, if I'm not supposed to kiss a..a.. dan'nasan on the mouth, then where should I kiss him?" The gods above winced as Shuichi set himself up for one hell of an opening.

Yamane gave him a shark-like grin as he undid his belt. "Oh, there are a few places that I can think of." Wide-eyed, Shuichi gave a small "eek!" as the older man grabbed him and pulled him to the bed.

Shuichi left the Hotel a little after six the next morning. He usually never got up that early, but considering that he got no sleep whatsoever the night before; he wanted to make sure that he got out of there as soon as possible. He didn't even bother to check the amount of money that Yamane gave him. He just snatched it out of his hand and shoved it in his jacket pocket. Yamane grabbed the bishie's arm as he swept past him. "You have great potential, Shindou-san. You should consider doing this on the side as you continue on your quest to be a musician. I will follow your career because you have something special in you." The genuine smile on the man's face made Shuichi feel a little better, but then it was quashed as he remembered where they were and what had happened the night before. Shuichi bowed stiffly and said goodbye and all but ran from the Hotel.

He wandered around Ginza for a couple hours, watching it fill with people shopping or going to work. He saw school kids on their way to school and he wished that he could be one of them again. He had been a total slacker in school, the second worst student in his graduating class. He barely graduated, and that was all attributed to Hiro saving his ass on tests throughout the years. _Everything was so innocent then; all I wanted was to be like Sakuma-sama and play music and be famous. Now that seems so childish._ _I feel so violated, so dirty. But I was the one who went along with it. _Sighing deeply, Shuichi found the nearest pay phone, fished out his _Nittle Grasper_ phone card and punched in his and Hiro's number.

About forty minutes later, Shuichi was sitting on a bench in one of Tokyo's many parks[2]. It was quiet in the park at that hour and the day turned out to be a gorgeous one. As Shuichi waited, he finally was able to look at the money that he had earned the night before. As he fished the yen out of his pocket, a couple empty Pocky packages fell out as well and he picked them up and deposited them in the trash can that was nearby. He unfurled the bills and his thin eyebrows rose as he counted 30,000¥[3]. _Sugoi, I can't believe I actually sold myself to that etchi guy!_ He involuntarily remembered what happened the night before. Rough hands pushing him down, careless fingers undoing buttons, hot, smoky breath in his nostrils, Shuichi crying out, a big hand covering his mouth and he whimpered softly as Yamane took from the bishie singer what he had paid for.

"Oi, Shuichi!" Hiro hailed him from further down the walking path. Shuichi looked up, eyes wet with tears. As soon as his best friend/band/room mate was close enough, he lunged forward and latched himself to Hiro in a rib-breaking hug. The good-natured guitarist almost fell backwards but he was used to this kind of thing and he quickly regained his balance. He patted the smaller boy's head as the singer wailed "Hirooooooo, I did some-something t-t-errible!" Smiling ruefully, Hiro extracted himself from his best friend and crossed his arms. "What's the deal? I was worried about you when you didn't come home last night. I even called your parents. Your sister almost bit my head off over the phone. I was seriously afraid for my life. You should get a leash for her or something." Hiro waited for a reaction. Usually, when the singer was like this, Hiro would make a crack at Maiko-chan, Shuichi would laugh, then they would go get a burger and the whole incident would be forgotten. This time, Shuichi just stood there, sniffing with his head down as he stared at the pavement under his sneakers. Hiro was now deeply troubled at his friend's reaction. He leaned in closer, noting the smell of cigarettes and...something else...on his clothes.

"Shu," Hiro said in a serious tone, "What the hell is going on?" Shuichi looked up with tears in his violet eyes, looking so lost and hurt that it broke Hiro's heart. "H-Hiro, I-"he broke down and spilled the whole sordid story, leaving the graphic details out but saying enough for Hiro to get the picture. When he was done, his legs gave out and he collapsed, totally spent, onto the ground. Hiro just stood there, totally shocked at what Shuichi had just told him. This kind of behavior was completely out of character for the bishie singer. "Shuichi," Hiro breathed, "this is a complete shock." Then, he raised his voice, something that rarely happened, "How could you have been so stupid? You're a frickken hooker!" He raised his hands in the air in a gesture of frustration. Shuichi looked up at Hiro, then he handed him the money that he had earned. Hiro blinked as he mentally tallied up how much Shuichi was holding. His anger forgotten, Hiro knelt down and whistled. "Sugoi, he gave you all that?"

"Un," Shuichi said.

Hiro cleared his throat and said calmly, "Shu, you're my best friend and nothing will change that. I know we need money badly but this is just not the way to do it. I'm sorry that you felt that this was the only way that we could get money." He grabbed Shuichi's hands in his. "We'll make it somehow, and become famous rock stars like Ryuichi Sakuma." Then he let go and stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. "It's your body and you can do what you want, but if you want to become a baishunfu, I'm afraid that you can't live with me anymore. I'll still be your friend, but I can't be a part of this." Shocked, Shuichi gaped at his best friend, "Demo Hiro, where will I go? I can't go home. I'll be out on the street!" he wailed. Hiro sighed and held out a hand to the boy, Shuichi took it and stood up shakily and put the money back into his pocket. . "Gomen, Shu-chan," was all Hiro said as he turned and walked away. Stunned, Shuichi tried to call out to his bestest friend in the whole world, but it only came out as a strained whisper.

"Hiro."

TBC

OMG! Am I twisted or what? Don't worry, Yuki will be in the next chapter, and Shu-chan and Hiro are still friends, if not roomies. There will be a fast forward in time in the next chapter to get things moving. This is all background and scene setting.

Translation time!

dan'nasan: male customer Tokyo's many parks: This is the park that Shuichi first met Yuki; it will play a bigger role later on. 30,000¥: approx. 300 bucks US. This is a rough estimation not taking into account current exchange rates. I base this on the $1-100¥ rate. It's easier that way. 

Well, until next time gentle readers! Ja!

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	3. Two Forces Collide

**Hey minna! Sorry for the huge gap between chapters. School started on the 8th and I've been running like a chicken with my head cut off. Gee, that's s scary and weird picture. - Thanks for all the great reviews. I feel so loved. Ok, just one thing: the third chapter that I uploaded was the first draft of the second chapter that I thought that I had lost due to my total lack of smartness. Please see AN's from two and three for the whole story as I do not want to go through it again. I just thought that I would clear up that little piece of confusion. Oh, what about WELCOME TO MY ROMANCE as a title? Feedback onegaishimasu.**

**KloudyReignfall: Thanks for your support! And I also have the FAKE mangas. I really enjoyed the last chapter of the 7th book ::g::**

**I just got the 2nd Gravi DVD and it's pretty good, kinda fast-paced compared to the plot in the manga. I like the manga better, I think it's more erotic when Yuki and Shuichi kiss. He he, I'm so etchi.**

**Ok, on to the REAL chapter threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee**

**Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me, **

**Pretty Shuichi--- Two Forces Collide**

**Around seven o'clock on Friday night**

Shuichi yawned as he left his tiny apartment and walked out onto the street. He put his black messenger bag over his shoulder and proceeded to head towards the center of Tokyo, _Nittle Grasper's Sleepless Beauty_ on his lips. It had been six months since his first encounter as a male baishunfu. He had moved out of Hiro's a few days after their confrontation, but they remained close friends and band mates. They even had a gig at Zepp Tokyo that weekend and Shuichi had several new songs that he wanted to go over with Hiro before then. He was even thinking about doing a few English songs and he needed Hiro to do the translations. Things had been going well with his side job as well. He had many 'clients': mostly repressed businessmen he met at bars just like the one where he had met Yamane, although Yamane had been hardly repressed. They would go to a seedy hotel and Shuichi would do what they wanted, for a price of course. He had found a small apartment over a book store and had enough money to pay bills and splurge on some new equipment for the band.

If anyone asked him, he would say that he was happy, and he would probably smile and offer a stick of his ever-present strawberry Pocky. On the inside though, behind that bubbly and often too-hyper exterior that many people, including many clients, found too intense, Shuichi was afraid. He had heard many scary stories about what happened to bishie baishunfu when the lights went out. A few had been assaulted, and one killed on the job. Shuichi went out on the weeknights terrified. He really wished that he and Hiro still lived together. But he didn't want to burden Hiro, especially since Hiro made it clear that he did not approve of what Shuichi was doing. One of the only times that Shuichi stood up for himself was after their initial fight, when he said:

"It's my body Hiro; I can do this if I want." Hiro had stood down, mildly impressed at how the singer stood up for himself. That sudden boost of confidence was all that Shuichi needed to begin his own life.

Lost in his own thoughts, he stepped to the curb. He wasn't watching where he was going and thus did not notice the sleek black Mercedes Benz turning sharply onto the street. It was going at an insanely fast speed, its imported tires screaming on the pavement. Shuichi pulled out his pink cell phone and pushed the speed dial for Hiro. He put the phone up to his ear just as he stepped onto the street. It was then that he happened to look up and saw the black behemoth come screaming towards him. The singer shrieked and jumped back onto the sidewalk, his opened bag went flying, all of his belongings went flying as well, just as the black car screeched to a halt, driving up onto the sidewalk, mere inches from the bishie, leaning at an angle on two tires then it dropped back onto all four. Shuichi had fallen backwards, landing on his rump, dropping his cell and bruising his elbows and back. Papers with half finished lyrics, demo tapes, Pocky, and other assorted items, including a **Ryuichi Sakuma Fan Club** membership card, were scattered around the singer. He blinked once, blinded by the headlights, then realized what had happened, and scrambled to grab the papers before they flew away. One sheet, with some of his best lyrics on it, fluttered away and landed on the Mercedes windshield, getting stuck in one of the windshield wipers.

The car door opened smoothly and two black patent-leather Armani shoes stepped out of the driver's seat and onto the pavement. The driver's black Armani pantsuit fell into place as the driver came out of the car. Shuichi looked up at the driver, the words **FUCK OFF BAKA!** on the tip of his tongue, but when his head stopped spinning and he actually saw the driver, the words died in his throat. The man standing there with his arm leaning on the driver's side door, a thin cigarette hanging from his thin, stern mouth, was the most beautiful person Shuichi had ever seen. He was tall and lean, with wheat blonde hair, a fair complexion, sharp, yet feminine features and...the most beautiful golden eyes the bishie had ever seen. Those eyes were intense, burning a hole right through the singer. Shuichi felt something stir deep inside him; it was like two vaporous hands had erupted from the man and was pulling the singer toward the driver from hell. He felt heavy, like gravity itself wanted to make the two men one.

Now, it must be said that Shuichi never considered himself to be gay. The whole male baishunfu thing was just a way to pay the bills. He had been on dates with girls all through high school and beyond, but they felt that he was too immature. With the girls he had dated, there had been no spark, nothing more than surface interest in any of them. But, with this man, this total stranger that just tried to run him over, he felt his heart swell with an adoring love that scared the bishie on many levels, but two were the most dominant:

1. The person that he fell in love with was another man.

2. The person that he fell in love with was another man.

All right, that's the same reason listed twice, but it really scared Shuichi. Could he be gay? He was always a little feminine, and had been mistaken for a girl many times, but could he really be?? Reeling from his inner revelation, Shuichi just sat there in awe of the man.

The man's piercing golden eyes scrutinized the boy in front of him: taking in the slim, girlish body, the lipid purple eyes, the soft, cherry-pink mouth, the pink-_pink?_-hair, and the dumb expression that the boy currently had on his face. Without missing a beat, he reached out a slim hand and plucked the paper from his windshield, holding it delicately with his fingertips like it was a piece of garbage. He squinted at the paper for a few seconds, his golden eyes scanning the lyrics. Shuichi stared at the man and waited. After what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, the man took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew out a thin stream of smoke into the air. He took one more look at the paper, and then turned to Shuichi who was still on the ground. "Did you write these..._lyrics_?" the man asked. His voice was rich and velvety, and it caressingly washed over Shuichi like warm water. If he had not already been sitting down, he most likely would have melted at the sound of that voice. It took Shuichi a moment to find his voice and finally he managed to squeak out, "H-hai." The man crumpled up the paper and tossed it in front of the fallen singer. "This is crap. You call this a song? You have the writing ability of a four-year old." With that, the man turned and walked back to his car and got in. The engine revved and the car quickly backed up and got onto the street. The driver took no time in gunning the motor and continued down the lighted street, wheels screeching as he turned another corner. The only sound was the blare of a horn from another car that came across the Mercedes' path. Shuichi sat there, speechless, his purple eyes filling with tears at the beautiful man's harsh critique of some of his best work. All he could say was "Demo..." 

Phew, that was a long one; I hope you all enjoyed it.

Until next time. Ja!


	4. who is tht blonde man?

Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me, although I wouldn't mind having Ryu to myself for a night. Tee hee, I'm as bad as Tastuha ;)

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**Later on Friday night**

Hiro watched as Shuichi sat idly at the table at the fast food joint that they had been going to since Jr. High. The bishie singer was sucking on a straw that had been in his diet soda, his cute face distorted from crying. He had told Hiro the whole story, from the moment that he stepped out of his apartment until; he picked himself and his belongings up off the pavement after his encounter with the mysterious man. Hiro listened calmly, as always, nibbling on his fries as Shuichi bawled. Hiro lifted one of the fries to his mouth, his fine eyebrows arched in question. "Okay. Let me get this straight: This psycho driver from Hell tries to kill you, and then disses your lyrics. I get that. But why are you stressing so much? It was just one guy, his word isn't gospel."

Shuichi looked up from his soda, "But to me it was! I mean, he was crazy, for sure, demo…he was the most cool person I had ever seen. Ano… there was something about him that pulled me, like it wanted to smash us together." Hiro gaped at his friend. Letting out a breath, he put out his hand, "Let's see." There were several minutes of rustling on Shuichi's part as he rummaged through his still ransacked bag. Finally, he pulled out a crumpled sheet of notebook paper with crinkles and tear streaks. Hiro shook it out and read. After a few intense minutes, Shuichi was able to ask, "Well?" Hiro looked up and handed it back to him. "It's okay, but I've seen better from you. What was it that you were trying to accomplish?" Shuichi stopped and thought hard for a couple minutes. "It was supposed to be a love song." He answered. Hiro sat back with a satisfied look on his face. "There you go: you've never been in love before. How can you write abut love when you've never experienced it?" He picked up another fry and licked it delicately, "Or have you?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Shuichi sat up straighter in his chair as he stuffed the rest of his burger into his mouth. "Idontknowwhafyertawkingabouth." He mumbled around a mouthful of food. He swallowed hard and glared at Hiro, who leaned in so that only they could hear. "Come on, you've been doing that baishunfu thing for a while. You can't possibly tell me that you're not into guys like that?" Shuichi turned bright red as tears of anger formed in his eyes. "Hiro, you've know me for like, ever, you know I'm not like that!" His anger began to wane as he thought about the cold, handsome man that shook him to the core, "At least," he continued, "I don't think I am." Hiro patted him on the head, and then began to pick up the trash from their meal. "Don't worry, Shu, I still love you. You drive me nuts, but that's just the way you are."

Shuichi perked up after that, and when Hiro came back, Shuichi decided to forgo going out that night and spend it with Hiro. They decided to go back to Shuichi's new place and play video games and get drunk. They stopped at the package store on the way and had two bags filled with beer. They walked the several blocks back to Shuichi's apartment, talking and laughing like old times; the mysterious stranger and his harsh words forgotten. They reached the apartment, and Shuichi fumbled for his keys. Hiro, who had busted open a few cans before the package store was even out of sight, he stood there, half empty can on his hand, staring into the window of the bookstore below Shuichi's apartment. The store was almost pitch black inside, the few ceiling lights that were left on gave off a dim orange glow. The front window was the only part of the store that was fully illuminated. There was a medium-sized table with a black cloth over it, the top overflowing with stacks and stacks of the latest releases. At further inspection, Hiro saw that the entire table was filled with the same book. He squinted his blurry eyes to make out the title of the book and the name of the author. The title of the book was _Lost Cause_, and the author was the one and only Yuki Eiri. A light when on in his head in recognition. His brother, of all people, loved Yuki-san's books. He said that they contained great monologues that he used on auditions. Right.

Grinning, he turned to Shuichi, who was still fishing for his keys, "You know," he slurred, "that Yuki guy really has it made. I saw him on a TV program the other day, and the lady mentioned that he had like a hundred different girlfriends. "Chikushō," he muttered, "it's those kinds of suave, rich guys that take all the cool chicks away from us hard working guys." Shuichi had dropped the bags of beer, the tinny clank of tin hitting the ground only distantly registered with Hiro Shuichi, who had turned to look in the direction that Hiro had directed to at the beginning of his tirade, just stood there, shocked at what he saw. There, in the harsh, artificial light of the window, sat a book that was on a small plastic stand, turned over to show the photo of the author on the back of the book. Shuichi plastered his face against the cold glass, a ring of condensation forming on the pristine glass. The picture, those piercing golden eyes, that face, that mouth, it was him. There was no mistake. Shuichi continued to stare at it; the slight gloss from the dust jacket hurt his eyes. "H-Hiro…"he whispered, unable to look away. Hiro, on the other hand, had continued his tirade about Yuki Eiri, "Don't ya think?" he asked Shuichi. Silence. "Shuichi?" He turned around, as a beer can rolled and hit against his sneaker. He saw his friend plastered against the window of the bookstore, his eyes transfixed on Yuki's new book. He walked over, swaying slightly, and hung an arm around his friend's small shoulders. He took a step when he realized that the bishie singer was shaking like crazy. "Shuichi, daijobu?" The guitarist asked.

"That's him, Hiro." He pointed to book. "Huh? Him who?" Shuichi grabbed the crinkled lyrics and tossed it at Hiro, who ducked. "That's the guy! Yuki Eiri! He's the one that almost killed me tonight!" Shuichi crumpled to the ground, his eyes filled with tears. Hiro stood there, letting the information sink in. He crouched down, patting the singer on the head. "There, there. The bad novelist can't hurt you." He wasn't trying to be funny, but the alcohol was making him stupid. Shuichi wiped his nose on his sleeve and hiccupped. Hiro stood there, awkwardly patting his friend's head. Then, suddenly, Shuichi perked up and stood straight up so suddenly, he knocked Hiro down. "Ouch!" Hiro yelped as he hit the ground. He stood back up, rubbing his bottom as he glared at the signer. "You know, I take a lot of shit from you, Shu, but one of these days, I'm gonna…" he stopped, all words completely wiped away in his mind. The determined look in Shuichi's eyes scared the shit out of him. When he did find his voice, he was afraid of the answer but had to ask, "Uh, what are you gonna do?"

Shuichi planted his feet firmly on the ground, his spine straight, as he struck a fist into the air, and opened his mouth to answer.

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Wah, a cliffhanger! Don't worry, I'm going to post the next chapter tonite. See you then!


	5. It's his party, I’ll crash if I want to…

:Crawls up from under a mossy rock: Hey, it's me again. :ducks empty Ramune bottles: I know that this fic has been on hiatus for quite some time, and for that I apologize. I have been in a Gravi slump: too many ideas and scenarios in my head and having neither the ambition nor the time to put them to keyboard. I want to make this a quality fic, so I kinda psyched myself out. I hope that I can get back on track, but I also want to enjoy writing it. Na no da . I want to finish this ASAP, since I also started a PGSM and Phantom of the Opera fic in addition to this one! So, here is the next chapter; it's a little later than I had hoped, but here it is all the same.

I just bought the last Gravi manga and then I watched the entire series again, and that is what inspired me to act.

Many thanks to my supporters and all those who reviewed and asked about what the hell happened to me, I'm really touched. **☺**

**All regular disclaimers apply, so don't bug me 8). "The Rage Beat" by Kinya Kotani, lyrics, music and arrangement by Mad Soldiers**

**Welcome to my Romance Chpt. 6: It's his party and I'll crash if I want to…**

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Shuichi sat in the leafy green bushes outside the Tokyo Hilton Hotel, his eyes glittering with excitement. Hiro leaned against the cement retaining wall next to the bushes, for as much as he would do for the pink-haired bishie; he was too sophisticated to kneel in the dirt. They watched as dozens of people, mainly young high school girls, milled around the lobby waiting to get in to the conference room where Yuki Eiri was hosting a signing party to promote his new book.

Hiro lit a cigarette, "Mou, Shu, how long are we going to stalk this Yuki cat? It's all you've been talking about for a week. I mean, you even went home to see Maiko, who, as president of the local Yuki Eiri fan club, had his signing schedule. You must be really hot for this guy."

Shuichi stuck his tongue out at his friend, "This isn't what it looks like. I'm not 'hot' for him, I'm pissed as hell. I want to make him apologize for those rude things he said to me." He held up an MD with _BL_ stenciled in pink pen, "I want to make him listen to the finished song and then make him eat it." he grinned wickedly at the mental image.

Hiro put out his finished cigarette. "That's fine with me, but why did I have to come along? I have better things to do than watch you make a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of school girls. I got enough of that in high school. Besides, this isn't good pr for the band."

There was a commotion inside the lobby as a woman in a tight fitting red skirt and matching jacket holding a microphone announced something. The roar from the crowd was deafening as the girls began to descend upon the doors to the conference room. Suichi stood up, pieces of leaves and braches sticking up in his pink hair. "This is our chance, Hiro! Ikimasho!1" the singer cried as he slipped into the lobby and melted into the throng of girls. Hiro sighed and flipped his burgundy hair over his shoulder as he waltzed into the lobby. He inquired at the desk as to the location of the bar and headed to the other side of the lobby. He sat down at the bar and ordered a stiff drink. He easily spotted the top of a pink head and watched with amusement as Shuichi made his way into the room. Hiro lifted his glass in a salute to his friend, "Gambatte, Shu-chan." With that, he drained the glass and waited for the fireworks to begin.

It took quiet a while for Shuichi to get close enough to see Yuki Eiri in person. All the girls waiting to see him and get his autograph got a big surprise. Yes, they received an autograph, but it was a laser printed copy of his signature printed on the glossy photo from his new book. There were no personal pictures allowed, and Yuki's editor, the woman in the red suit, was the one who was handing out the photos. Yuki just sat there, cigarette in his mouth, looking both annoyed and bored. He barely glanced up and the squealing girls as they pressed against the table to be close to him. Many were angered by the callous attitude that Yuki showed to his fans, but the majority forgave him just to bask in the glory that was Yuki Eiri. Each customer only had a few minutes with him, and they did all the talking. They jabbered on and on about how his books touched them, and how he was the reason that they believed in true love. The author seemed nonplused by their gushing remarks and the only movements he made were to tap off the ashes of his cigarette and light a new one when necessary.

Since Shuichi had come in late, he was at the very end of the line, and some others who had just happened by joined him in the back. While he waited, he thought of a bunch of wickedly cool things to say to the cold hearted bastard at the table. He imagined Yuki's reaction would be pleading on hands and knees, kowtowing to Shuichi's greatness with the singer cackling like mad above him. Shuichi must have started cackling out loud, for several girls gave him strange looks and shied away from him. He stood on his tiptoes and squinted above the head in front of him: he was almost to the front of the line; al of a sudden his heart began doing flip flops in his chest. He told himself it was the excitement of getting a chance to tell the author off, but it felt different. It wasn't like when he was little and his parents took him to the mall to see Santa-ojii-sama. At first the feeling was similar to that kind of excitement, but as the line shortened, it felt more like he was about to rejoin with a part of his soul. He had had a nagging feeling in his chest since his fateful first encounter with Yuki; and now he knew what it was. That night, Yuki had taken a part of his soul when he sped off into the night, and now Shuichi was going to get it back. He glanced up; the girl in front of him had just taken the glossy from the editor then bowed with a shaky "Arigato gozaimasu," before scurrying away. He was next. His heart began to flutter as and odd tightening in his groin made him aware of just how excited he was to see this mysterious man again. A quick flush of red quickly spread over the singer's pale cheeks.

He took a step forward, ready to shove the MD into that smug, albeit gorgeous face. Yuki abruptly stood up and walked away from the table, not even bothering to say anything to his editor; he didn't even look up to see who was next. It was if there wasn't a signing going on and he had just sat down with nothing to do and then got up a while later to go on his way. The editor paled then turned red, shooting an angry glance in the direction that Yuki had gone. She turned to the remaining fans that had begun to shout and make a fuss at Yuki's departure. The sudden exit of the guest of honor signaled the end of the signing. Her smile was embarrassed as she forced an apology through gritted teeth on Yuki-san's behalf, mentioning something about him not feeling well. She told them the rest of the photos would be available at the front desk and she thanked them for coming. The crowd grumbled as they began to filter out of the large room. The editor turned to the table and began fumbling with papers, grumbling to herself about "that damned attitude of his". Shuichi just stood there, completely dumbfounded.

The editor soon noticed him standing there. She looked sharply at him, ready to snap at him for not leaving with the others. Her expression softened when she saw how cute he was, even more so with the stricken look that he had on his face. "Can I help you, koibito?"2 She asked gently.

Shuichi snapped out of his daze, "Ano…where did he go?" he asked quietly.

The woman smiled sadly, "He does this, more often now than in the past. People think its part of the whole reclusive angsty writer persona that he puts out. Truth is, he can only take so much of this. He only attends theses things because I make him; my company does, that is. If he had it his way, he wouldn't step foot out his door for anyone even remotely interested in his books.

"He's our best selling client; and he agrees to this every once and a while to increase sales which makes my bosses happy, which makes me happy, and I don't bother him for a few months until his next book is extremely overdue, which makes him happy." She stopped and thought for a moment, "Or, at least as happy as he can get." She smiled and shook her head. "For all his talent, his beauty, he has the personality of a rock. I bet if he were more personable, his fame would skyrocket." She seemed to realize what she was saying and who she was saying it to. She quickly caught herself and cleared her throat. She grabbed a photo and shoved it into Shuichi's sleight hands. "Dozo," she stammered, embarrassed at spilling so much about her secretive client.

Shuichi gripped the glossy in his hands; he stared at those cold eyes staring back at him. He was even more determined to confront this man and get revenge. "Sumimasen kōdinētā-san3, demo, I need to see him again. There's some unfinished business between us." The woman looked surprised, "You've met him? And you _want_ to see him again?" She took the photo back and quickly scribbled something on the back. "Take this, and go see him." Shuichi looked down and realized it was an address. His address. The woman gave him a conspiratorial wink, "Just between us, ne? Don't tell him I gave it to you. I may be his editor, but he'd have no problem killing me if he found out." She gathered her things and went to leave.

Shuichi found his voice before she left the room. "Ano…" he began. She looked back inquiringly. "Doushite? I could be someone dangerous, why are you doing this for me?" he asked.

She smiled, "I've known Yuki Eiri for several years, and I've known you for ten minutes. I think that you two can do a lot for each other." She shooed him out of the room, giving words of encouragement the whole way.

Hiro met him in the lobby. The guitarist asked, "Well?" Shuichi showed him the photo and the address on the back. "Hiro, arigato for coming with me, but I think that I have to go by myself." Hiro clapped him on the back, "Attaboy, Shu. Tell me how it turns out, k?" He winked and strolled out of the hotel, whistling.

Shuichi studied the face staring at him through glossy eyes: that achingly beautiful face revealed little, but from what the editor had said, Yuki Eiri had secrets. _She probably wants me to crack the cold veneer of the God of Romance Novels to boost sales_, Shuichi thought bitterly. His doubts refused to stick, and the tightness in his belly grew as he weighed his options: he could go home and continue his life of music and prostitution and forget about the author; or he could confront the man, and perhaps begin a new chapter in his life. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the MD and player. He popped it into the MD player and pressed 'play'. His ears were filled with the techno-beat of his song _The Rage Beat_, its thumping rhythm giving him the drive that he needed.

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**With a terrified look in the eyes, spit those irritated feelings into the fickle wind****  
The signal that melted into the cracked roadway is leaving only a scar behind.**  
He memorized the address, its numbers were forever burned into his mind.  
**Before the drowsy noise blurs away tomorrow,**** chase after those ambitiously resounding footsteps.  
**He dodged cars and people and bikes, he was a pink and black streak blazing across the pavement.**  
That unfulfillable emotion that never settles down somewhere--**** just decide to ignore it, then overtake it.****  
Aim for the loophole in this shy, trembling society,**** for the place we keep struggling towards.  
I want new world.  
If you bare your claws at your swarming anxieties,  
you'll be snapped back by unfamiliar lies,****  
and the unbearable times will adorn the rust-covered roads with agitation****  
Stuff your bag with nothing but velvet coins.****  
We don't need a map of the maze-like dreams.  
****From the tidal-wave's pounding rhythm ****to the glittering silver passion,  
it's all just temptation's strategic pull.****  
Your fragile eyes beat on the door we can go through**** as we still keep on searching.  
You just a new world**** I can still hear the accumulated tears carving their paths into Main Street,****  
warping the sound of those footsteps.****  
That unfulfillable emotion that never settles down somewhere--****  
just decide to ignore it, then overtake it.****  
Aim for the loophole in this shy, trembling society,**** for the place we keep struggling towards.  
I want new world.**

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He came upon the quiet neighborhood just far enough from the hustle and bustle of the city yet still close enough to be considered trendy. He thanked his lucky stars that it was in an area popular area, since streets and addresses were difficult to gauge in Japan. The high-rise apartment looked bleak against the Tokyo skyline. The grey stones seemed to absorb any light and left the street dull and lifeless. There was one light on in the top floor apartment. The yellow light shone down onto the street, a glowing square the only light on the black concrete. Shuichi stood in that light, but it gave no warmth, his courage was failing him and for a moment, he didn't think that he could go on. He scanned the street for the Mercedes, and when he didn't see it, his heart sank. Yuki wasn't home yet. Shuichi sighed, feeling lost. He stuffed the photo into his bag and headed for home. He trudged along the street, down to the Red Light District that was only two blocks from his apartment. The bars, brothels, and sex clubs were a blur as Shuichi kept his head down, letting the tears of frustration drip onto his sneakers. He barely heard the cat calls from his fellow baishunfu4 and from others wanting to purchase his services. He hadn't been out in a week; his whole concentration had been on Yuki Eiri. There were several regulars who approached him, but he ignored them. He got to the corner that led to his street when he vaguely heard a familiar screech of tires on cement. He looked up to see a very familiar black Mercedes careening down the road. This time, Shuichi intentionally walked in front of it, hoping for a quick death. Only Hiro would be able to see the irony of it all. He closed his eyes and silently said goodbye to the bullshit world and everyone in it. The screech of tires and smell of burnt rubber filled his consciousness as darkness engulfed him. Behind his lids, he could see a bright light. It was so bright, he kept his eyes closed. He felt strong arms lift him up, the feel of cool silk against his cheek. He nuzzled against it, inhaling a scent of tobacco and a unique masculine scent that made him feel all warm and fuzzy. He leaned against something leather and felt as if he were moving very fast. Again, he was lifted up, carried somewhere and then put down. He heard the creak of leather, and then the heaviness of a blanket around his body. His head was lifted and set down on something soft. Shuichi sighed as he snuggled against the softness and dreamt of long, deft fingers stroking his soft hair, dreamt that the smoky voiced, golden-eyed prince from his dreams spoke close to his ear, "I don't understand you..."

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_Ta da! Well, worth the wait? Tell the truth now! Onegai! Chpt 7 on the way! I swear!_

_Ok, translations:_

_1. __ikimasho—let's go!_

_2. __koibito – sweetheart (kawaii, ne?)_

_3. __kōdinētā-san—Miss coordinator _

_4. __baishunfu—male prostitute _

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	6. The Proposition

** Hiya! Here is the next chapter. Things are really rolling now. I will try and make this a longer chapter, the last one felt long when I was writing it, but it was only like 7 pages. Oh well. **

** Disclaimer: Gravitation belongs to Murakami Maki-san and Pretty Woman belongs to Gary Marshall. **

** Welcome to my Romance: Chpt. 7: The Proposition**

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Later that evening,Shuichi awoke sprawled over the top of a black leather couch. He sat up groggily, his pink hair sticking up in all directions. He yawned loudly, reaching his arms up above his head. He looked like a kitten waking from a nap. He wiped his blurry eyes and looked around. He was in a studio apartment with bare white walls and bare hardwood floors. There was minimal furniture, and much of what was there was sleek and modern. The couch, coffee table, TV and small desk was all that was in the huge living room. One door off the main room led to a bathroom, the other door led to a large bedroom, as sparse as the living room. The door next to the bedroom was the only one that was closed. Shuichi half fell, half slid off the slippery couch and landed on the floor. He scrambled to his feet and padded softly to the closed door. He clutched the handle and gently pushed the door open.

There, in the eerie iridescent glow of a computer monitor, sat Yuki Eiri, wire rim glasses perched on his perfect nose, blonde hair fashionably mussed, cigarette hanging between thin lips, staring at the screen with a scowl. Shuichi gasped at the sight and tried to pull the door closed again, but Yuki had heard him and looked up at the door. There was annoyance and contempt in those golden eyes, and if he wasn't mistaken, a hint of amusement flickered across the author's face before the cold mask slipped into place. Yuki stood up, his fluid motions mesmerizing to the young singer. Yuki kept a steady pace towards the door, with no apparent intention of stopping. Shuichi realized this almost too late and stumbled backwards into the living room, almost being stepped on by the taller man.

"Oomph!" he grunted as he skidded a few feet across the slick floor.

Yuki glared down at him, cigarette hanging from his mouth. He took it from his mouth and exhaled, a thin stream of grey smoke into the air, the halogen lights above them making the room hazy. "Why the hell are you following me? I don't care if you want to kill yourself, but find someone else's car to wreck; it's a bitch to find a body shop for foreign cars in this city."

Shuichi struggled to his elbows, squinting up at the man, "It all seemed pointless, there was nothing that I wanted to live for if I didn't see you—" he stopped, blushing right up to the roots of his pink hair. There was a second that Yuki's icy demeanor cracked, and there was genuine shock on his face. It was only for a split second, and he covered it up by taking another drag. "Just tell me what you're doing here, and why you've got this obsession with me." He walked over to a small fridge and took out a beer. He popped the top and took a swig, then went to the black leather couch.

Shuichi got up and sat on the other side of the couch. Yuki seemed annoyed by this, but didn't say anything. "I'm Shindou Shuichi; I'm nineteen, and a musician. I-you almost ran me over last week in front of my place. You said my lyrics sucked and I-I wanted to see you again to make you hear the finished song." Saying it out loud made Shuichi realize that it wasn't as sound a plan as he had thought, it sounded better in his head; but then again, so did a lot of other things.

Yuki took another drink, his head back against the back of the sofa, eyes closed. "Hmm, so you've been stalking me for a week just to make me listen to some crappy garage band song? Please." Shuichi noticed the beautiful angle of his face, and how peaceful he looked at when he was rest. He turned his head a bit and opened one golden eye, "You're young, what were you doing out in that part of the city? Looking for a little action?" It was a harmless jibe, but Shuichi took it as a serious question. "Well, I was going to my night job..." he began.

Yuki's brow wrinkled in amusement, "Oh yeah? As what? A baishunfu?" he snorted as he finished off the beer. He waited for the embarrassed denial, already realizing that bating this bishie into uncomfortable situations would be an amusing way to spend the evening. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pink head moving in response, but he was nodding in the affirmative. Yuki sat up abruptly, choking on his beer. He gasped and hacked, his eyes watering. Through the silk of his blue shirt, he felt small gentle hands on his back, soothing him, with the occasional slight smack. He sucked in a huge amount of air and lunged forward.

"**NANI**!" he rasped, beer can slipping from his hand.

Shuichi nodded again, sitting with his legs sticking out at his sides. He gave Yuki a small watery smile as he welled up, emotional over the other man's reaction. "Honto, for a couple months now. I needed money, and there was this guy, and well, he made me, uh-" he gave the universal sign for 'you know' and shrugged.

Yuki raked his fingers through his hair, "Made you! Raped you, you mean." There was an edge in his voice that made Shuichi shudder, a change in his body from cool laidback asshole to scary, tense asshole. "Iie, it wasn't rape, I mean, yeah, it was my first time, but I let him do it, and I took his money afterwards." Yuki began to pace the large almost empty room, muttering and smoking. Shuichi watched for a few moments, his purple eyes moving from right to left, left to right as Yuki paced, his eyes crossing from the movements. Dizzy, he promptly keeled over, legs sprawled over his head. Yuki abruptly stopped mid-pace, leaning back a little to see what had happened. Scowling, he grabbed a slim leg and pulled him off the couch. Shuichi's head hid the floor with a 'thump' and a groan from the singer. Yuki dragged him across the room towards the door. He opened it with one hand, while still hold Shuichi. "Wah…?" Shuichi mumbled as he looked up at Yuki; "Get out," Yuki growled and tossed the bishie singer none too gently out into the hallway.

"AIEE!" Shuichi squeaked as he skidded against the carpet. He struggled to rise and by the time he got to his feet and dove for the open door, Yuki slammed it in his face. Shuichi banged on the door, "Yuki! Onegai, let me back in. Yukiiiiiiiiii!" he whined. The door suddenly opened a crack and Shuichi smiled, then a beer can flew through the air and hit him in the forehead. "Ouch!" he yelped as he was tossed backwards. "Hey!" he shouted to the closed door. Rubbing his head, the singer slowly realized that this was a lost cause, and that he might as well forget it.

He left the apartment and went back to the park where he had met Hiro after the first time he had sex for money. Night had fallen; a cool breeze ruffled his hair as he sat on a bench with his legs tucked up against his chest. Tears welled in his eyes and flowed freely leaving wet trails down his pink cheeks. **_No one loves me, I am unlovable, I'm alone and talent less._** He sat there for some time, wallowing in self-pity, until a shadow blocked the light from the street lamp above him. He looked up to see Yuki standing over him, his face lost in shadow. Shuichi stared at him expectantly; Yuki said nothing, just sat down on the other end of the bench. He took out a cigarette and smoked it in silence. Shuichi's tears had become a mere trickle, only a few tears escaping with the occasional hiccup.

"What is your rate?" Shuichi jumped at Yuki's voice breaking the silence.

"Huh?" Shuichi blinked, words not registering.

"Your rate, for your…services." Yuki said quietly.

"Oh, uh, well, thirty thousand a night, but why do you want to know that?"

Yuki blew a ring of smoke out of his mouth, "My editor wants me to start my new book as soon as possible. I want to contract out your services until I finish with it."

Shuichi sat there opened mouthed, gaping at the older man, "Doushite?"

Yuki shrugged, "There are some social functions coming up that I need to have an escort for, and," he leaned in and cupped Shuichi's cheek with a slender hand, "you look really cute right now."

He leaned in and kissed Shuichi on the mouth. At first, Suichi was too shocked to do anything, and then he wanted to push away, remembering the first rule in the baishunfu trade. His feeble attempts to break away soon melted under the hot pressure of Yuki's tongue slipping into his mouth. The mix of tobacco and beer flooded Shuichi's mouth and he wrapped his arms around Yuki, crawling into his lap to be closer to him. Yuki's hands gripped his shoulders, while Shuichi's hand raked through his hair. They sat like that for a while, making out under the yellow light of the lamp post.

After about twenty minutes, they separated, Shuichi breathing heavily and getting more aroused now that they were not locked together. He had never felt this way about his other clients. It had always been close-your-eyes-close-your-mind-and-not-think-about –what's–being-done-to-you. But this, this was something more, it was love. Yuki on the other hand, although he was as mussed up as Shuichi from their hot and heavy make-out session, didn't even break a sweat.

"Have you decided to take up my proposition?" Yuki asked quietly.

Shuichi smiled, "Sure. How long will I be-uh-contracted?"

"Until my book is finished."

"Ah."

Yuki held out his hand, "Torihikika?1 "

Shuichi grinned and grasped the author's hand. "Hai!"

Even if it was a false relationship, Shuichi would still be with Yuki, and perhaps, he thought, something would happen in the end.

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Finally! Whew, they finally get together, after 6 chapters! Well, I wanted a good set up before they actually got together. Hope y'all like it!

Vocab:

1. Torihikika—deal?


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